Bleak House: A Sequel, Or, A Birthday at Bleak House
by Wolseley37
Summary: John Jarndyce, in the face of unexpected tragedy and unwanted comedy, masterfully manages his growing household, while Esther and Ada settle the question of the mistress of Bleak House. (Rated T for the last chapter)
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Bleak House ~ A Sequel, Or, A Birthday at Bleak House

**Content:** Esther Summerson-Woodcourt, Ada Clare-Carstone, John Jarndyce

**Disclaimer:** _Bleak House_ was written by Charles Dickens

**A/N:** This is written in the style of Dickens and continues after the last chapter of the original novel. I had in mind both the wonderful 2005 BBC television drama, and the 1998 BBC Radio audio drama. The former starred Denis Lawson as John Jarndyce and the latter featured Michael Kitchen in the role. I enjoy both actors' performances.

(First posted on the Nothing Fancy Forum ~ in the Michael Kitchen, Other Roles, FF subforum, in October 2007, for the Birthday Challenge.)

Quotations are from Dickens' novel.

* * *

Chapter LXVIII

_"They like me for his sake, as I do everything I do in life for his sake."_

_Esther Summerson, speaking of Mr. Woodcourt_

It came about later in that year, which was the eighth year of my marriage, that my husband Mr. Woodcourt was called away to Scotland and was not expected to return from his business for two months. Hearing of these circumstances, my dear Ada and my former guardian, now her guardian, kindly invited me and the children to come to them during his absence. I confess I welcomed the chance to revisit my old sanctuary, for though my home was dear to me, it was dear for reasons that were both exquisitely intertwined and opposed.

The reader may recall that the house I lived in with my husband had been a gift to us, and had been decorated, before we took up residence, to resemble in every detail the old house to which I had added my little feminine influences and which I would quit upon my marriage. I did not fully appreciate, when my guardian had first shown me through it (for my heart was staggering at the implication of receiving its supposed dearest wish), but only after months of occupying the new house did I truly come to feel and, I hoped, to comprehend the devoted regard and deep love that had been lavished upon its creation. In short, the very walls, furniture and fittings announced unendingly to me the pure heart of the one who had so selflessly handed me over to a man who had never credited him as a rival.

I loved my husband; I was confident of his love for me, yet I soon came to see that my Allan's life was full already – he had filled his life, as a young man ought to do, with his work and his career, and regarded his home as a comfort to be enjoyed only after the daily fulfilment of his duties and obligations. He became ambitious to succeed, not only through untiring hard work for the patients he devotedly attended, but through improvements to his professional training and knowledge. Indeed, that was the purpose of his departure to Edinburgh.

I was content in my role; the arrival of the children brought delight to us both, and compensations to me. Yet amidst all the joys and distractions of motherhood I had found myself unexpectedly lonely. Mr. Woodcourt was not often there to listen to my trifling tales of nursery room triumphs and discoveries, nor to relate to me details of the many daily incidents that so absorbed him. As much as it had been in my power to do so, I had made his interests my interests, his concerns my concerns. This had brought me out into a much wider circle of people, where I found I was valued solely for and through my association with him and his work, in contrast to the direct estimation of my usefulness within my more quiet and intimate former household.

I did not crave attention, far from it; yet I was the uncomfortable recipient of much acclaim that was, I knew, merely reflected glory. And then, as I say, Allan began to travel to lectures and to demonstrations of the newest advancements in medical practice, and his work made increasing demands upon his time. In his absences I continued my humble service to the village folk, though always feeling my solitary arrival less welcome to them than when I came as his assistant.

Therefore it was with a grateful and yearning heart that I and my two little daughters accepted the invitation to old Bleak House and to the nurturing companionship of the two people whom I had earliest loved.

* * *

Chapter LXIX

_"He had taken two or three undecided turns up and down…with a_

_good-natured vexation at once so whimsical and so lovable that I am sure_

_we were more delighted with him than we could possibly have expressed in any words."_

We instantly settled into the familiar and congenial routines of those earlier days when we three had shared this house, yet it became apparent to me that there had occurred a gradual but material change in the relations between my friend and her guardian. This was to be expected; Ada had, however briefly, been a married lady and had borne a child. That Mr. Jarndyce should regard her more as a grown woman than as his girl ward was natural; yet there was still something more to be read in my darling's manner towards him. On a fine afternoon within the week, while our guardian led the children on an expedition to discover the new tortoise in the garden, we walked out together and I spoke to her.

"Ada, how is it with you and Mr. Jarndyce? You seem to have become closer; I sense a change in your manner towards each other…"

"Yes, lately I have felt it, too, Esther. Young Richard brings us together; Mr. Jarndyce is so fond of him and takes such an interest in his reading and his games, now that he is such a lively boy, that we seem to have an endless topic for our conversations. Oh, Esther, he is so good to us – you have seen how he carries the boy about on his shoulder! When he is with Richard I study him, and I cannot help but look upon him as the kindest father a little boy could have, and my heart–."

"Yes, dear Ada?"

"Oh, I dare not say it."

"Ada, we have been each other's secret-keeper. I have trusted you with my fondest hopes…"

"But, my dear Esther, I would not confide such a wish to one who might be pained to hear it."

"Me? What do you mean, Ada?"

"Esther, I know that you gave Mr. Jarndyce your promise, and that you gave it most willingly at the time…"

"That is true, and I would willingly have honoured that promise had not his keen perception discovered my inconstancy. Though he acted from the highest regard for my feelings, and put all his hopes aside, I cannot but believe that he was disappointed in me, that he found me lacking, and was glad to have escaped a tie to one so unworthy of him."

"Dearest Esther, forgive me, but what nonsense you talk! You may feel so within your own heart, but you do him wrong to assign such thoughts to one whose love for you is pure. He loves you, selflessly, still. And that is why – that is why he cannot love me."

"Oh, Ada, Ada, do not turn away. You love him! I am glad; no one deserves your love more than he does. But you are uncertain that he returns your affection in the same way?"

"I am certain that he does not. It is true that his regard, his manner towards me is changed from when I was his young ward – he is ever more solicitous of my opinions and asks for my suggestions on every little matter; he treats me as one on an equal footing, as one with some experience of life, rather than as one for whom he has the responsibility of nurturing and educating."

"And yet you are not content? You wish for more?"

"Esther, we have such talks, he and I!"

Here we sat down together upon a secluded bench.

"He has, in everything he cautioned us of, been proved correct and yet he expresses such compassion, such understanding of our old hopes and wishes, without the slightest hint of complacency. He never speaks of poor, dear Rick except to praise him, with such predictions of the certain success he would have achieved, but for his weakened heart, for so he calls it; Esther, he goes so far as to suggest that it was an underlying and undiscovered fault in his heart that affected–. Well, it is so like him to say it.

"He is so wise – he attempted to give us the benefit of his wisdom, yet now makes no judgement upon the sad result of our folly. Rather he commends us for the course we took because it has brought young Richard into the world, into his life. He says– he says he can never do enough to thank us for the blessing of that little boy."

Ada's tears flowed freely as she finished with a confession,

"I cannot help but love him with my whole heart."

"Then why do you not tell him, my darling?" I asked, drying her cheek with my handkerchief.

"He loves you, Esther, selflessly, nobly, with no regret. He loves you so – that he is happy to see you happy with another."

I bowed my head, knowing the truth of her words,

"…I felt, at the time he asked me to become mistress of Bleak House, that he meant to offer me some compensation for the loss of your companionship, Ada, and to provide me some definite standing in the world. I felt I understood him then, yet it was only later, gradually, that I came to truly comprehend the depth of his love for me. I think, Ada… I think that we were both, he and I, too reticent, too uncertain of deserving each other, or of pleasing each other; I know he made attempts to overcome that feeling between us, but when Mr. Woodcourt returned I – I suppose I felt that here was a man I could deserve, despite all my faults. That is not a very noble regard for a wife to have of her husband, is it, Ada?"

"You do… love Mr. Woodcourt, don't you, Esther?"

I rose slowly from our seat and Ada followed to continue our stroll,

"I do, indeed, most humbly and devotedly; yet, as you know, Ada, my experience of the society of men is very limited, and all my intimate acquaintance with the sex had solely been with our guardian. Therefore, as I came to know Allan better and better, after our wedding, I was surprised to learn how preoccupied he was with his own affairs and how secondary a role I would play in his life. Our guardian had always placed his home life first, and had regarded the demands of business as an intrusion upon more highly valued domestic occupations. With my husband… it is the opposite."

"Esther, I am sorry to hear it."

"No, no, my darling; I do not complain. He is a young man with his career to make; he loves me; I love him; I understand him; it is merely the difference to which I must – to which I do – become accustomed."

We had wandered in a gentle circumnavigation of the grounds, and now approached the gardens where we spied Mr. Jarndyce crossing the lawn, reciting a narrative, not in the least impeded by the burden of young Richard riding pick-a-back, with a little girl standing on each foot, holding tight to a leg and swinging forward in turns with his stride. Their squeals of piping laughter filled the air as the dramatic tale of a kindly giant (no doubt the children thought it autobiographical of the teller) rang out in a deep bass alternating with alto accents. Ada and I held each other as we, unseen, witnessed this demonstration of his genuine affection for and delight in our children.

"Oh, Esther! Do you recall our visit to little Bleak House three months before your first confinement? How affected he was by the sight of you, so round and blooming; I declare Allan was quite taken aback at his show of emotion."

"Allan was quite used to my new shape; to one who had only known my more slender form, it was undoubtedly a shock."

"It was not shock, my dearest, that brought tears to his eyes and caused the smile upon his lips to tremble as he greeted you. Thank goodness Emma had come in with the tea so promptly!"

A moment later our guardian caught sight of us, flushed and smiled sheepishly, and then warned his crew (for he had, apparently, transformed into a sailing ship at that instant) of the mysterious and enchanting creatures who had hove into view. Richard gave a cry as to the danger of sirens (which we protested to no avail), the crew of the lower decks appealed for salvation from the captain, who steered the ship, by the command of his little index finger, onto a less perilous course towards the hydrangeas. The sailing ship/giant obeyed, and Ada and I, spurned and banished from the game, took refuge in the sun room overlooking the garden.

_tbc..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter LXX

_"…this caprice about the east wind was a fiction that he used to account for any disappointment _

_he could not conceal, rather than he would blame the real cause of it or disparage or depreciate any one."_

One morning nearly a month later, as was his custom, our guardian distributed the post at the breakfast table, and smilingly handed over a letter to me that had arrived from Scotland. When I said I would put it by until a quieter moment presented itself, for the children had been with us and required our attention, he made no remark but had looked thoughtful. Ada exchanged a look with him, and remained silent, too.

When the children were occupied with their nursery tea, I retired to my room and opened the letter. In it Allan informed me that he was to be offered a situation connected with the university, that he was to be made assistant to one of the most prominent surgeons, that it was not yet quite confirmed, but he took this opportunity to prepare me for the accomplishment of the fact. He wrote that he knew I shared his regrets over leaving behind our dear friends, and that he expected me to be comforted by the knowledge of his making a great professional advancement, a success far beyond anything he had achieved in his quiet country practice. He added in a postscript that he intended to make an invitation to his mother to join us in our new establishment. I am ashamed to confess that my first feeling upon finishing the letter was undiluted dismay.

Not only dismay at the prospect of being taken so far away from my dearest friends, of leaving those friends, I flattered myself, lonelier for our going, but also dismay at the cool way in which he seemed to cast aside everything that my guardian had done for us, in pursuit of his ambitions.

I determined to say nothing of the news until the final word on our displacement was pronounced, and both Ada and Mr. Jarndyce were gracious enough not to enquire at first. But I could not long hide from them the state of my feelings, for their love aided their perception, and their sympathetic looks penetrated my outward composure. It was not many days before they brought me to the growlery for a quiet interview.

While relating the matter of the letter I was quite unable to conceal my unhappiness, though I did my best to show, through my tears, a proper wifely pride. Ada was as encouraging as she was capable of being, but had turned pale and, when called out to see to her son, quit the room with a handkerchief to her eye.

My guardian rose from his chair and came to sit by me on the little sofa.

"Esther, there is something more you wish to tell me, is there not?"

I, too, had made use of my handkerchief, and at his query the tears flowed anew. I glanced up almost fearfully into his wise and kindly face,

"Oh, I have such need of your advice and support…"

He laid his hand gently upon my arm as I hung my head and whispered,

"When I had read Allan's letter, I, myself, felt the wind shift to the east, something I had never felt in my married life, and it chilled me to the bone; it frightened me, guardian."

He put a forefinger under my chin to raise my eyes to his,

"Now, my dear girl, in this let me truly be thy friend and counsellor, for you know I used to be troubled by east winds. I am certain, Esther, that this is not an easterly but merely a changeable wind; it swirls up the settled dust of our lives, flusters the skirts of comfortable habit round our feet and trips us up. But after this little bluster you will find it westerly again, believe me, my dear."

He kissed my brow, and looked with a momentary frown towards the window, his old habit when wishing to avoid any mention or recognition of his generosity.

"Esther, in all truthfulness, if there were any question of repayment, he repays me tenfold by doing well, by prospering beyond the limits of the little beginning it was my great happiness to provide; he does me honour by his success, by the greater success he will achieve on the new path he now strikes out upon, and I bless him for the advantages this will shower upon his family, so much more than I could ever have offered. His initiative impresses and humbles me."

My guardian spoke further of the worldly amenities to be found in the great city in the north, and made everything sound like such an opportunity for us that my heart lifted a little, and I began to think myself quite foolish and sentimental. I imagined our future in a more positive and providential light and began to view it with a hopeful regard.

The solace of his words and wisdom sustained me for some days, and I did all I could to increase my sense of the advantageousness of the imminent change; yet each time I sat down at my writing desk to compose a reply to my husband's letter the words would not come. After a little time I found my appetite decreased, my nights disturbed with ill-omened dreams, and then found myself sleepless altogether. Late upon one evening, when the entire household had, I thought, been long abed, I left my chamber to seek some escape from the melancholy ruminations that afflicted me.

I had some vague notion that a dram of brandy might aid my sleep and had wandered dispiritedly to the drawing room. To my great surprise I spied my guardian there; he stood at the hearth, leaning an arm on the mantel where a forgotten glass rested, his eyes bent upon the last flickering flames and luminous embers of the fire. Whether he heard my footfall in the passage or my little gasp of shock as I gained the door I know not, but as I hesitated in the entryway he raised his head and, as if he had only awaited this appointment, held out his hand to me.

How I reached him I cannot say, but I was instantly in his arms, heaving tearless sobs of anguish upon his breast. He stroked my long, loosely-tied hair, kissed the top of my head again and again, and whispered sounds of comfort. When I had calmed a little he held his glass of whisky to my lips and bid me taste it. I regained my voice, and confessed miserably,

"I do not wish to go! I do not wish to be parted from you and Ada."

In a passion of guilty feeling, I ejaculated,

"God forgive me!"

To my astonishment I heard him chuckle softly as he assured me,

"My dear, you hardly need God's forgiveness for loving your friends too well."

"No, but for–."

He gave my shoulder a sudden squeeze,

"Hush! I'll not hear that and I'll never believe it! Come now, sit with me, Esther; you tremble with the cold."

It was not my seat in the old place beside his that he meant; instead he took me upon his knee in his own chair and held me gently.

"There now, little woman, your faery slippers are above the draughts." He settled my head against him and spoke softly,

"It is plain that you are still buffeted about by this changeable wind – it is a stronger gale than we thought – but it will not push you down or blast you from your true course. And you speak of being parted from us? When the whole Island is criss-crossed with iron ribbons! Instead of two hours by coach to Little Bleak House it will be but four hours by train to the north, and then you'll have such a bother to entertain us, and continually to find enough linens and dessert spoons and footstools that you will feel it a relief at last to wave us off again! Why, you shall only just settle into a few cherished days of peace when we shall all tumble in upon you once more! There now, there's a little glimmer of my Esther's smile…"

I had indeed tearfully smiled at his teasing jest; as he chucked me under the chin and I raised my eyes in loving gratitude to his, I saw a momentary breach in his composure, a shadow of the curious expression that used to come over his features in our earlier days. It passed in an instant and his sensible, cordial, sterling manner was restored. He continued to speak, wisely, tenderly, putting all before me more clearly and plainly than I had been able to perceive, so that I soon felt such calm serenity that I must have drifted into a doze in his embrace; otherwise I cannot explain how next I found myself tucked up in my own bed, the morning sun high and the birds having long since ceased their singing to commence their daily labours.

From that day on I felt my crisis had passed; our future was an eventuality to be regarded with only the normal anxiety such innovation inspires. I wrote my letter and was satisfied that it expressed nothing that could give Allan the slightest doubt of my contentment and pleasure with his news. Ada, too, had evidently received the benefit of our guardian's further counsel, for she began to talk cheerfully of plans for holiday visits and excursions to some of the finer natural sights – the lochs and mountains – and expressed curiosity to see the environs of the Queen and Prince Albert's newly purchased house, Balmoral.

_tbc..._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter LXXI

It was at the start of the second month of our visit, upon a bright day when Ada and I and the children enjoyed a long late afternoon walk through the grounds, my younger girl toddling hand-in-hand with her sister and young Richard darting round us like a dragonfly, that a servant approached to take them in hand and call us back to the house to attend Mr. Jarndyce. He had bid us both come to him in the drawing room; as we entered he was at the window just drawing shut the curtains – it struck me as a curious action in such fine weather – and turned at the sound of our footfalls. We were forewarned by the pallor of his countenance that he had received some terrible news. When he apologetically begged Ada for her assistance in his regrettable mission, I had an intimation that the news concerned my husband, and, feeling the life-blood draining from me, put out my hand and sank slowly down to sit on the sofa.

I will not here dwell on that horrific moment; on the shock, the collapse, and the dreadful numbness that overtook me. Instead I will recall the gentleness and care with which the message was delivered; how my guardian, truly my guardian in this, enveloped me in the protective warmth of his presence, suppressing his own grief to cushion mine: my husband, journeying southwards earlier than he had anticipated, had met with a sudden accident upon the road, had died instantly, without a moment's pain or fear, that his words to his companions (injured but alive) in the unknowing minutes before, had been of his family and dearest friends.

The weeks following now seem an impenetrable dark fog of pain and weariness, yet the fog did lift, and revealed the beseeching faces of my two little girls – and that is what brought me back to myself: my love for them and my duty to carry on for their sake. My grief had frightened them, and so I put it away and returned to them, to whatever life we were to make under these changed conditions. Of course, Ada and our guardian were there offering comfort, support, and the deepest friendship.

One quiet afternoon, many months later, when Bleak House had been divested of its funereal crepe and all the curtains had been permitted to be opened again, I chanced to descend the stairs just as our guardian began to ascend; I had thought him still out on a call, and seeing him returned earlier than expected, my heart lifted and I met him with an expression that must have communicated my pleasure. He stopped two steps below me so that our eyes were on a level, took my hand in both his and said gently, feelingly,

"My dear Esther, what a gift you bestow with your smile!"

At his words the tears sprang to my eyes to think that he could find any pleasure in one who had, again, brought the pall of tragedy into his house. To conceal the emotion that he might misinterpret as renewed sorrow, I rested my head upon his shoulder and my arm stole round his neck. My heart was too full of gratitude to speak.

"There, my dear; my dear…" he patted my arm.

I raised my head to show him that I was not grieved, but moved; I kissed his cheek and smiled wordlessly into his eyes. My composure restored, I said softly,

"It is my sense of your constant kindness, dearest John."

Hearing my use of his Christian name, his breath caught and his fingers pressed my arm. He rose up on the next step and embraced me.

"Dear little woman of Bleak House… You will stay with us, won't you, Esther – you and your daughters?"

"It is all that my heart could wish for."

"Then it's settled."

We stood like that a moment together until I spoke again; he drew back to look into my features.

"And… the little Bleak House, John?"

"I have not wished to trouble you over it, my dear. There is no need to trouble you with it now. Nothing need be done."

I fear I must have betrayed some passing emotion, or wrinkled my brow, for he instantly assured me,

"It is yours, dearest; it is and always shall be your own little Bleak House."

I struggled inwardly, not wishing to seem careless of his cherished gift; but feeling the truth in my heart welling up to be released,

"John, I am home. I wish no other house. I would only care to see–."

I was prevented from continuing, for my guardian drew me close, kissed me tenderly on my brow and cheek, and his lips rested exquisitely near mine, but neither he nor I would dare to claim that prize. He murmured softly,

"Only name what you would care to see, little woman, and it shall be done."

I found my voice had faltered a moment,

"Only… only that the new physician who should take the practice be offered the house, unnamed and unadorned with anything but the furniture. Let him make it his own house."

He moved down a step and bent his dear head to press his lips to my hand,

"If that is your wish, it shall be done."

"Thank-you, John, it is." I had put out my other hand to caress the silvered curls, but drew it back with a sudden compunction,

"But… John, I would not wish to interfere with Ada's authority here; she now manages the house and the staff."

He looked up, a new perplexity dawning upon him,

"That's true… and with growing confidence, too."

"Perhaps it is best left in her hands – as you have placed your trust in her, I am content."

He momentarily worried his bottom lip between his teeth, and then he smiled,

"She would benefit from your advice in some matters; you have the more practical– well, she could use the benefit of your experience, Esther."

"I will be glad to advise Ada if she should ask."

"Y-yes. Good."

Though Mr. Jarndyce offered a brief smile, he left me with a mildly clouded countenance. However he did not raise the matter again; in fact, it was Ada, a few days later, who broached the subject to me.

"Of course I am honoured that he should place the management of the house in my hands, that he should trust me; but Esther, I really thought– that is, I did so hope you would agree to stay, and I rather expected, when you felt up to it, that you would resume the role. You have a much better head than I for these things, Esther. I am the first to acknowledge it."

"Do you find the duties wearying, my dear?"

"I confess I am not entirely confident about my decisions, in some things, you know… I cannot get quite clear the use of all those keys, and I do not always foresee what will be required… I am afraid that I have rather let cook and the servants take the lead…"

"What remedy do you wish, then, Ada?"

"Well, I had wondered if we might, you and I, go to cousin John together. If you are in agreement, we might propose an alteration in the arrangements."

"That is an excellent suggestion: if we show unity, my darling, then he can have no concerns of future discord between us. We might indicate that ours will be a consultative arrangement."

"Yes; that would put his mind at ease on the subject, wouldn't it, dear Esther?"

And so together we bearded the lion in his den – that is, we ventured to the growlery – and petitioned our guardian to make this change in the management of the domestic affairs of Bleak House. Thus I found myself once again charged with the responsibility of the two great rings of keys and their little basket, to the satisfaction of all present.

That evening at supper, after we three had made the rounds of the nursery cots, and the children had been read to and tucked in, we were an unusually cheerful trio, considering that I still wore full mourning. Not that we were merry, but there was an atmosphere of relief and restored contentment that encouraged easy conversation. Indeed, Mr. Jarndyce, at one point, lifted his glass and quietly proposed a toast to our new agreement,

"May we three enjoy a long and happy association, may we raise the children with wisdom and love, that they shall see in us an example to guide their future choices and make them equal to their responsibilities. To the co-manageresses of Bleak House!"

Ada and I blushed at the tribute and, emboldened by his enthusiasm, I lifted my glass,

"May we two prove worthy of the trust, kindness and love bestowed upon us. To the master of Bleak House."

After the merest glance at the window, he waved away the remark,

"There is no question of proving worthy, my dears; I am twice blessed by your companionship."

Perhaps carried off in the flow of warm feelings, Ada raised her glass and cried,

"To the master of Bleak House and master of our hearts – may our two loves combined strive to equal the love so much deserved!"

Mr. Jarndyce, flushing red in the face, now looked deliberately towards the door as if to reassure himself of a more ready means of escape, and hid his emotion behind his wineglass,

"My dears, my dears; I believe I shall have to rechristen this house…"

We assented heartily,

"Oh, yes! What shall it be called?"

Our guardian set down his glass and gave serious consideration to the matter.

"Well, it requires something quite the opposite of bleak – something bright, cheery, hopeful. In earlier days it had been called 'the Peaks', which is not bad."

"Was it a happy house in those days, guardian?"

"As far as I know, it was; but then, the tentacles of Chancery had already begun to wind round the poor inhabitants. Perhaps not 'the Peaks', then. Hum, we shall have to give it some thought, my dears."

Over several weeks we tested out a variety of names, mostly in jest and never in earnest – the Beacon, the Bandbox, Blithe House – but never settled on one definitely. Eventually we let the subject drop, waiting for some particular event to suggest the most fitting idea to our minds.

_ tbc..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter LXXII

We carried on under these congenial terms for another quarter of the year, until a curious set of circumstances arose which brought about the necessity of a slight alteration. The reader may recall the name of our guardian's former friend, and that the late Mr. Skimpole had left behind a widow and three daughters. It was the sudden arrival of these ladies, a previously unheard-of son-in-law, and the particular friend of Mrs. Skimpole, unheralded upon the doorstep of Bleak House that set events in motion.

I will not enlarge upon the confusion and difficulties that ensued when this sextet descended upon us; Mr. Jarndyce was, as ever, incapable of incivility, and could not transfer his lasting disaffection with the departed husband to the unfortunate widow and her orphaned daughters. Inconvenient and unlooked-for as they were to us, our guardian made them all welcome, and we, of course, matched his cordiality as best we could. The quartet proved quite as helpless in managing their affairs as the _paterfamilias_ had been; only their associate, Mrs. Pilferage, a widow also, seemed to have a head on her shoulders, and to show some consciousness of the position in which their precipitous appearance had placed their host.

As the visit commenced, we made discreet enquiries as to how long they planned to remain in the region, whether they had other acquaintances nearby or anywhere else that they meant to call upon, but could get nothing definite from any of them. Ada and I noticed that our guests were rarely out of each other's company and always in Mr. Jarndyce's. They seemed unwilling to exist without their host, and travelled from room to room and floor to floor in search of him en masse, unable to appoint a smaller delegation for the task, and rather like a sauntering herd, all bent on one objective and unable to pursue it individually. Wherever he happened to be in the house, and they soon learned the regular compass of his habits, they migrated to him and, if his location was unaccommodating, fetched him back to the sitting room and insisted on including him in whatever they were doing, which was usually little, other than desultory conversation, unless he suggested some definite diversion or occupation for their amusement. They became so bold as to suggest to the nurse, now and then, to keep the children out of his way that they might have his company uninterrupted.

There was but one sanctuary for him, during these tumultuous days, to which he would not allow them access, yet he was compelled to direct the servants that, when he was shut up in the growlery, he was not to be disturbed for anything short of a conflagration. Ada and I were, of course, excepted from this edict, but began to feel he might benefit more from some moments of complete peace than from any re-examination of the present circumstances to which our presence might give rise. We found ourselves somewhat pushed out of the way, and unable to mitigate for him the unaccustomed bustle and hubbub his guests generated. We were, indeed, more inclined to be in company with the children, who were quieter, talked more sense and listened when others spoke.

Ada and I, in the companionable private moments we shared away from the crowd, naturally turned for a topic of conversation to our visitors. There was, not surprisingly, much to be discussed simply in terms of our managerial responsibilities – the necessary increase in spending on ordinary provisions and on delicacies, the hiring of more help for the cook, extra kitchen maids and house maids, and a thousand other increases, to which Mr. Jarndyce agreed with only the slightest fluctuation in his equanimity. However, we did not neglect to dissertate upon the members of the party themselves.

The Skimpole ladies we had previous acquaintance with, and only noted how they had in no way altered in character from our former knowledge of them. The son-in-law, , was a small man and a lively talker, but we never saw him do anything, and never heard that he did anything, or had anything to do. We were made to understand that he was married to Arethusa, whom the late Mr. Skimpole had called his Beauty daughter, but his manner towards all the ladies in his party, his mother-in-law and his sisters-in-law (Laura, the Sentiment daughter, and Kitty, the Comedy daughter), was invariable, with no marked signs of particular affection for any one of them.

Our interest was most piqued by the friend of Mrs. Skimpole, Mrs. Emmaline Pilferage. This was a lady of some accomplishments; she played well and sang sweetly to amuse her companions; she had undoubtedly been pretty when young, and was yet a fine-looking woman, but on closer acquaintance one became aware of a certain hardness in the expression around the eyes and mouth. Whether this was the result of an unhappy history or of inborn character, we could not determine at first.

Eventually a change developed in the party's daily routine, in which the young people began to amuse themselves in escorted, and then unescorted, tours of the property and grounds, while their host was left in the comparative quiet of the company of the two widows. Both ladies endeavoured to ingratiate themselves with our guardian, each declaring a passion for backgammon of an evening, each playing and singing, both solo and duet, and enquiring closely as to his particular favourites among the pieces and airs they found under the piano bench, that they might oblige him with a rendition.

From what we were able to determine in brief visits to whatever rooms in which the two had captured him, the ladies were conducting a kind of friendly rivalry for his notice; they were not overtly flirtatious (indeed had they been, Ada and I were sure our guardian, owing to his quiet, self-effacing disposition, would have run from the room), but there was a sort of competition, the object of which we did not at first understand. There was, however, evidently a victor, for Mrs. Skimpole withdrew from the field, returning to the company of the young people and leaving Mrs. Pilferage in possession of – well, in company with – Mr. Jarndyce.

_tbc..._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter LXXIII

_"It was a handsome, lively, quick face, full of change and motion; _

_his hair was a silvered iron-grey… he was upright, hearty, and robust."_

The Skimpoles seemed to have formed a definite conspiracy to leave their friend freedom of choice in her activities, themselves now keeping out of the way of their host just as diligently as they had pursued him before.

Mr. Jarndyce, apparently, was disinclined to quit the field himself, and had no objection to sitting with, or walking with, and talking with his new acquaintance. After the cacophony of the entire party, and the dual buzz of the two ladies, he undoubtedly found it comparatively soothing to listen to just one voice, and to be listened to – for the lady evinced a real interest in his opinions and observations. Freed from the pressures of competition, Mrs. Pilferage relaxed into an unforced, almost natural amiability, and he displayed a receptivity that Ada and I found both unexpected and revelatory.

Going over our household accounts and records one afternoon, we paused to compare notes on our observations,

"I have, of course, marked the frequency and warmth of her private intercourse with my cousin John."

"And… what is your view of his response?"

"He is very cordial, gracious, interested…"

"I meant – what do you read in his manner?"

Ada made a little self-conscious frown,

"Well, he seems to relish her companionship, wouldn't you agree?"

"Indeed." I bent my head over the ledger book.

"Esther, have we any cause, or right, to complain?"

"No, no, certainly not, Ada; if he takes pleasure in her company then we must heartily wish him joy."

"Oh, but, Esther, you can't seriously expect–."

The appearance of our guardian in the doorway brought our conversation to a sudden and self-conscious halt.

"Ah, my domestic angels! My dears, Mrs. Pilferage has proposed a whist party after supper, and we hoped you would not be too fatigued to join us. Perhaps a little rest while the children are at their tea would prove beneficial?" After an encouraging lift of his eyebrows and a smile he turned and was gone again.

We looked after him, gaping in surprise.

"Whist?" said I.

"'We?'" exclaimed Ada.

"He never could abide cards before." I observed almost petulantly.

"And 'too fatigued'? One would think we were the eldest of the household!"

That evening Ada and I did our best to be bright and cheerful, if we did not quite manage to be effervescent, among the guests. Ada was partnered with Mrs. Skimpole opposite our guardian and Mrs. Pilferage, while I sat with Mr. Percher, Kitty and (in turns) Laura and Arethusa. We kept vigilant for any indications of increasing sycophantism in the attitudes of the party; to watch the other mannerisms displayed, however, was something of a trial: the three daughters, each according to her appellation, rang the changes on every exaggerated exhibition of vanity, hilarity and mawkishness, until we were both put nearly out of humour. Mr. Percher feigned good will by agreeing with, assenting to and applauding every inane remark those ladies uttered. I wondered at my guardian's equanimity under this tiresome ordeal, but saw that his attention was more pleasantly diverted with his partner.

During a pause in the games, Ada and I stole a private moment together, and she informed me of a curious interchange, across the card table, between the two widows: upon Mr. Jarndyce noting that Mrs. Pilferage had swept all hearts before her, Mrs. Skimpole had looked archly at her friend, who responded in an intimate tone, 'I am an incurable collector of hearts, sir, and I hope to complete my collection very soon, if not tonight!' Ada thought that her cousin smiled at the remark, yet was oblivious to the unspoken communion.

"You have a certain feeling regarding the lady, I think?"

"I confess I am not easy in my mind about… her intentions. There was something other than friendly teasing over a romantic conquest in the look Mrs. Skimpole gave her – it was more like the acknowledgment of a gambling debt."

"Well, we know the Skimpole tendency to fall in with whoever may presently foot the bill, and I fear Mrs. Pilferage may willingly serve as a means to that end. Her devotion seems all feigned and rehearsed, as if she were reciting lines from a play! Yet, Ada, I am all too conscious of the element of self-interest involved in my doubts, therefore I shall be silent and accept whatever may be."

"Still, Esther, our love for him gives us cause to exercise vigilance, to be watchful for signs of abuse of his beneficence, or complacency in receiving his continuing kindness."

"Yes, Ada, that is our duty precisely; I thank you for expressing exactly my feelings on the matter – truly, it is concern for his happiness that is foremost in my heart."

The evening wore on, and to see him so animated in another's company, to have seen him offer his arm to her and smile into her eyes and receive her smiles in his, produced a sensation within me, I am nearly ashamed to confess, that burnt into my very soul, and also made me begin to doubt my place, and my future, in our little world.

Something of my uneasiness must have been discernible in my features, at least to one with a perceptive heart, for Ada exchanged a sympathetic look with me.

Our guardian caught our exchange, and turned his gaze consciously in my direction. Though his glance rested for but a moment on me, in that moment I felt that he communicated to me a clear message, and saw that I received the communication – that he knew what he was about in his dealings with the lady.

I bent my head to my cards, overcome with confusion that he should perceive my interest in his conduct, and that he should go so far as to oblige me with a reassurance.

Somehow we got through the evening, and I returned to my room depressed for more reasons than I cared to enumerate.

Sleep would not come, and my discomfort rose to such a level that I, for fear of wearing myself out with anxiety, was compelled to confide further in Ada. It was quite late when I went to her room, but she was not asleep, and welcomed me into her bed so that we might talk the matter over quietly. By her countenance I observed that she, not deficient in perception, had been labouring under similar emotion.

"If he should choose to marry there must be alterations in the household…"

"But you, darling, are a blood relation, and can have nothing to fear for your security. In matters such as this, blood is a guarantee."

"Esther, do not tell me you have entertained the notion that you could ever be–."

"Had I only myself to think of it would signify nothing; it is my girls I am anxious for – one does not like to feel that the future is a gaping void…"

"But, dear Esther, I know that he loves you."

"Ada, that is not to be considered anymore; or perhaps he loves me now as a dependent, for, as much as he conceals his actions, we know he takes pleasure in doing kindnesses to those who will most benefit by his charity."

"Charity–!"

"–But it is the peculiar position in which this eventuality will place you, Ada, and his undoubted understanding of that that puzzles me."

"Well, it is the notion of his seeming to turn – for despite what you say I will not give up my conviction of his constant love – his seeming to turn from you to another that confounds me, Esther."

"Then we are agreed, at least, that his present behaviour is most perplexing."

"Indeed."

_tbc..._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter LXXIV

The next day there were still more occurrences which raised in my mind a real concern, not to say an alarm, as to the implications of Mrs. Pilferage's ascendancy, and her obligations to the family of the friend who had helped her to the position.

I had determined to get near to the Skimpoles so that I might learn something definite of their intentions, and the next morning made an offer to join the daughters who were going out on the terrace, only turning back into the room to fetch some work. As I passed out the doors into the sunshine, I overheard Laura, the Sentiment daughter, remark to her sister,

"Oh, Arethusa, it does weary me to contemplate the idea of those two little matrons being sent out into the world to seek another home for their wee ones! Such a pathetic and affecting scene it will make!"

"Then do not contemplate it, my angel, for it can't be helped, and they surely shall not wish to remain; so really, they must do it to please themselves, not for any cause to do with us. Oh, Mrs. Woodcourt, can we trouble you to bring another cushion?"

I felt I had the answer to my doubts then, and did not stay long in their company.

In the afternoon Ada and I distracted ourselves from our concerns with a long ramble with the children, but even they perceived the change in our spirits and, as children sometimes will, matched their energies in sympathy with ours. Mr. Jarndyce met us in the garden as we handed the subdued bairns over to the servant.

"My dears, how pleasant to meet you here in this secluded spot. I wanted a word with you before tea."

I had a first dark thought that he was about to inform us of his impending nuptials, but then there was that in his comfortable and confiding manner that instantly dispelled this fear. We had strolled a little distance leisurely together along the length of the garden wall when he halted, and we lifted our faces to him expectantly. He gazed at us a moment with a fond expression, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, on the other side of the wall we heard Mr. Percher pass in conversation with his sister-in-law,

"Well, then, Kitty, I daresay Mrs. Pilferage will make short work of it, and we shall all be as well set up as if your Mama had secured him."

"Oh, la, Alfred," replied the Comedy daughter, "Emmaline has been reeling in rich men and casting off paupers for twenty years; she could write a guide to rival Walton's _Compleat Angler._"

The gentleman's reply was an uncouth snort, followed by the query,

"But she means to make this one last, don't she? It would put my mind at rest, and dearest Arethusa's, to know we had a comfortable perch."

"The perch will be secured, Mr. Percher; and whether the bird lasts or falls signifies not a whit, for the income flows from investments that need not be tampered with."

The invisible couple walked on and soon passed beyond our hearing.

Ada and I stared, but Mr. Jarndyce only tilted his head to one side with a considering smile, and did not make the slightest move to rub his head – which meant, of course, that he had been entirely cognizant of the attitude of his guests towards him and their covetousness for his property, and that he felt no disappointment or disillusionment from the remark. He cast one glance heavenward before saying,

"What I came on purpose to say, my dears, is that our guests, though they don't know it yet, will be departing tomorrow. I thought you might be pleased to know that we shall soon have Bleak House to ourselves again."

He smiled placidly and, seeing that we were speechless, gave a little bow of his head and was about to turn away, when Ada regained her voice,

"_All_ of our guests, guardian?"

"Yes, my love, all of our guests; the entire party."

We hesitated but a moment, and then as one we flew to him and kissed him on either cheek.

That evening after supper Ada and I took ourselves off with an excuse of some work or other that needed out attention. Mr. Jarndyce had a quiet word with Mr. Percher, who then informed his ladies of their new travel plans, and during that time our guardian requested a private interview with Mrs. Pilferage.

In the sanctuary of Ada's little parlour we delivered our souls to one another on the events, concluding that we had perhaps underestimated our guardian's worldliness, yet still feeling that we had been correct to be vigilant and would have informed him of our misgivings, if it had become absolutely necessary, out of our sense of duty and our love for him.

Ada kissed me and looked fondly at me,

"I never doubted it, Esther; I know you as I know myself, and in this we are one heart."

She spoke these words so earnestly that a curious understanding came over us both, and I saw the recognition of a shared truth in her eyes as I felt it in my own mind.

There was quite a different atmosphere amongst the party the next morning, and rather a lot of fuss to get the belongings packed and the luggage stowed on the carriage Mr. Jarndyce had hired to carry them back to London. It was not known if they had an address to go to there, but it seemed they were provided with the means of securing modest lodgings for a week.

_tbc..._


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter LXXV

_"She leaned across her cousin John and kissed me, and then looking up in his face, _

_boldly said, 'At all events, cousin John, I WILL thank you for the companion you have given me.'_

_I felt as if she challenged him to run away. But he didn't."_

Although Bleak House was emptied of the disagreeable throng of interlopers, there remained something of a noxious residue in the atmosphere of the rooms, and, whilst the servants diligently carried out a tremendous Augean sweeping and cleaning and tidying, we took ourselves outdoors. It was a fine, bright, warm autumn day, and the children delighted to run freely in the grounds, unhindered by disapproving looks. None of us were inclined to discuss the departed guests; instead we spoke of sundry plans and projects which would occupy us through the coming winter months.

Mr. Jarndyce walked with us, smiling pleasantly now and then at our discourse, yet at times he seemed almost abstracted, and at times he seemed to be studying us with a curious expression. When he began running his hand over his hair, his old habit when troubled with some vexing matter, Ada could not refrain from remarking on it.

"Troubled, my dear? Well, in fact I have been wrestling with my pride in coming round to making a confession – or at least, to easing your minds upon recent events."

Having bid us both be seated on a convenient bench, he began pacing up and down before us with his characteristic mild agitation.

"I must– I feel I must offer my apology to you both for having prolonged the unpleasantness occasioned by the presence of our guests. I fear my actions may have caused misunderstanding, and raised unnecessary anxiety…"

He halted and gazed at us seriously,

"But did you truly doubt my fidelity to you, my darlings?"

We stared up at him in dumb contrition, and he shook his head in self-reproach.

"I must make a clean breast of it, then. Sometimes, in attempting to do good–! Well, let me sit by you, my dears, and let me talk, though it will expose my vanity. You wondered at my predilection for Mrs. Pilferage's company – well, it was not a relish for her sparkling wit and coquettish manner, I assure you."

Sitting between us, he gave our hands a pat with averted eyes.

"The lady is afflicted with an unreliable memory–. The truth is, we had met before; some twenty years ago, in fact. I recognized her instantly, but she did not remember me – well, she pretended not to, and I did not wish at first to cause undue embarrassment by recalling to her mind the circumstances of our earlier acquaintance. Her intentions, then, towards me and my purported rival were the same as at present. She settled on my rival – a man of greater age and of greater wealth than I had been then – and, I have learned, left him some years later on his deathbed, his fortune spent, to keep an assignation with her second husband. She has had a half dozen more since.

"I have been endeavouring to learn more of her history subsequent to that time, to mark if her character as I knew it before had altered for the better and, if so, to discover if there be some way in which I could do her good, though not in the way she intends. Alas, her soul, under the glittering exterior, is as hard as flint still. I pity her: a hopeless case – in her eyes one notices unceasing calculation, her mind dwells on her own schemes; while she gives the appearance of attending, her thoughts are racing upon quite another course. In our final interview I did not shrink from direct appeal to her better nature, yet her ideas are fixed. She must be the directress of her fate; she will not listen to any more reasonable plan, though it be nearly as profitable."

He paused after giving this account and recommenced rubbing his head with his hand.

"Yet I must confess, my dears, to being a little surprised that you should lose confidence in my devotion to you – I noted it well in your features – and I am somewhat at a loss to understand it."

Ada and I glanced, with lowered lids, shamefacedly at each other,

"It is only that she is a very fine-looking, handsome woman…"

"With many personal attractions that any man might…"

"And why should you not desire a closer acquaintance with a lady possessing such enthralling enticements to – to…" I trailed off in acute embarrassment.

Mr. Jarndyce had been staring straight before him as we attempted our explanation, and now he put a hand over his eyes and shook with quiet laughter.

"You thought she had bewitched me? Really, did you think me an unfledged chick, my dears, seduced by the glamour of a pair of pretty eyes? I had been proof against their power before, and am not yet so unworldly as to mistake flattery for esteem."

He laughed to himself a little longer, then declared,

"No, my innocent angels, you have me safe as an old married man, or rather as a faithful hound lying comfortably at the hearth. Just pat my head now and then and I am content."

Just at that moment the children approached in a curiously deliberate manner, with young Richard at the head of the diminutive delegation,

"Guardian, we wanted to thank you for sending those ladies and the gentleman away. We did not care for them; they were cross and never wished to play with us."

My elder girl chimed in with her observations,

"They never read a book and the ladies never did any work as mama and Miss Ada do, and they sent us out of the room though they did nothing."

"Yes," agreed the young master, "Which is very idle, and perhaps that is why they were so disagreeable."

My younger girl nodded her head in sage affirmation.

Urged on in whispers by his compatriots, Richard pronounced,

"We are glad to be just our family again, because we are a very happy family, and–."

While he spoke he had leant in to rest against our guardian's knee, and now began to play absently with his watch-chain,

"_I_ call Miss Esther my second mama and Addie and Lizzie call my mama their second mama; guardian, can you not be our second papa? May we not call you 'papa'? – it is so much friendlier to say!"

"Oh, yes!" entreated the girls, rushing forward and taking hold of his hands with their little fingers, "Papa! Let it be 'papa!'"

Our guardian looked perplexed at the eager and sweetly shining faces,

"_Er_, well, my dears… It's not for me to–."

Ada and I conferred silently and smiled to one another.

"For our part, we should be delighted for you to call him 'papa.'"

And so they did from that moment on.

_tbc..._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter LXXVI

Sitting together in the drawing room after supper, I looked up from my work and my gaze rested upon my guardian's profile as he read his book, the reflection of the fire playing its light and shadows across his handsome features and catching the brilliance in his keen eye. I pondered his words to us earlier that day, in which he had likened himself to a devoted hound, and it struck me how unsatisfactory an allusion this was – he was no old dog whiling away his fading years in complacent ease!

Despite the silvered grey of his hair, he was yet upright, robust, vigorous and active; he was regularly dashing off to attend to the demands of business and the service of friends, with rarely a sign of fatigue, and he carried the children about with the strength and alacrity of a man half his age. An absent-minded pat on the head seemed hardly a fitting reward, or loving tribute, to one whose very presence enriched our lives with interest, confidence and joy. And yet, perhaps that was how he saw our little expressions of gratitude…

A new idea began to grow within my mind, and I determined to talk it out fully with Ada that very night. We found we were in complete agreement in our views on the matter, and equally ready to put things to rights with no undue delay: we felt that we had but one thing to do.

* * *

Before the clock struck eleven, Ada came to my room, where we took down each other's hair, brushed and smoothed the flowing tresses, hers bright gold and soft as silk, mine dark and as long as our chestnut mare's tail. Wearing only our nightdresses, barefoot we tiptoed up and down the steps, along the hall and passages, to the room where Mr. Jarndyce slept. It was not locked, and we silently slipped in and shut the door again. His window was open to the brisk October night and the pale full moon through the net curtains provided the only light; we crept to the bedstead, which stood in the middle of the floor for better exposure to the air.

He lay at rest in the centre of the bed, quite asleep, the covers drawn up to his shoulders and his iron-grey hair in no more tousled disarray than when he rubbed a hand through it in his moments of whimsical vexation. Knowing he would surely attempt to bolt ere we could persuade him of our proposal, stealthily we climbed up onto the bed and reclined upon the counterpane on either side of him, securing him in place between us. We two had been shivering a little, from the chill of the night air and owing to the thinness of our garments, but felt instantly warmed in his presence.

Gazing fondly upon his sleeping countenance, we smiled to each other and ventured a whispered conversation,

"Is he not handsome, Esther?"

"Most handsome, my love."

"I have always thought so; he has quite the most expressive mouth – how I have longed to kiss it."

"I have kissed it!"

"I know you have, imp! His brow is of the noblest form."

"And his nose has such character – a Roman nose, and yet not so austere."

"Oh, and his eyes, Esther!

"Do not mention his eyes now, Ada, or I shall lose all my courage and run away!"

"No, you won't, my love; he has never used them to look stern upon either one of us."

"It is not sternness that I fear from them."

"No, I know it. Their glance, so lively and so fond – quite turns my heart over. His eyes are the hue of a summer sky on the sweetest, warmest day that God could bless us with…"

"We have brought no candle in this dark hour, yet the room will be quite illuminated when he wakes and uncloses those brilliant orbs."

"Indeed, Esther. I hope we don't frighten him." She laid her hand softly on his breast.

"I daresay he may be a little startled." I laid my hand over his heart.

At our touch he stirred and his beautiful, kindly eyes opened. The instant he was aware of us he drew in a sharp breath, and attempted to sit up, but found himself inhibited.

"M-my dears, what is it – is there a fire? A thunder storm?"

He struggled upward a little and we pressed our hands soothingly on his shoulders,

"Nothing amiss, darling; do not be alarmed."

"We have come to speak to you on a certain matter."

"But, here? – Now? – At this time of night, my dears? Surely the morning will do?"

His eyes darted from one to the other, disconcerted, and his arms twitched to be freed from under the blankets.

"Do please forgive us, dearest John, but it cannot wait, and the darkness suits our purpose."

"Dark purposes? From my two bright angels?"

It seemed to me that his lips turned down in suppressed amusement, but I could not see by the dim moonlight.

"Do let me up, girls, this is not quite –!"

"Dear cousin, lie still; be content to listen for a moment. Now, Esther?"

"Will you listen, John, to our petition – our proposal, if you will?"

"If I will? It seems I am to be given no choice! My liberty–! This is most strange, my dears!"

His look did seem really rather alarmed now, and my confidence faltered. Ada saw this and rallied,

"Do please be still and listen to us, darling, or Esther will quite lose her courage; she will run away, and then I will lose my courage and feel quite to blame, and we both shall be too embarrassed in the light of day ever to be seen again."

He lay still then, and attempted to plead his way free,

"I would not wish to be the instigator of such distress, but really, my dears, must it be done in this way? You know any request you have in mind will be easily heard at the breakfast table, or in my study, by the fire in the drawing room, in the garden – even the growlery will not find me intractable, and this is so – well, my dears, so…intimate! M-my bedchamber! My very bed-!"

I ventured to respond softly, coaxingly, in a voice he had not heard from me before,

"As I have said, love, this suits our purpose…"

I ran my hand down the bed-clothes over his rising and falling breast. He bit his lip and looked up at us with the expression of a child fallen amongst strangers, uncertain his trust was well-placed.

"Very well; what is it you are so earnest to say to me?"

As we had agreed, I began to put the proposal to our guardian,

"Dearest John, you must know that we both love you deeply; never fear (for he had glanced longingly at the open window), we will not vex you with an enumeration of the reasons; it is an accomplished fact: we love you and hope always to deserve your love."

I looked for reassurance to Ada, and then continued,

"But there is a slight difficulty, a shadow encroaching on the brightness of our happiness here at Bleak House, and we have come to suggest a remedy."

"What shadow is that, my dears? I confess to not having noticed it."

"It is the matter of the mistress of Bleak House."

"Oh, but my dears, I thought that had been settled perfectly between you! Ada, you willingly gave over the keys to Esther, and she consults with you daily – I have seen how harmoniously you…"

He stopped as we smiled fondly at each other and at him, and he asked weakly,

"Is there some other aspect of the arrangement you wish to discuss…?"

"It is not the housekeeping we speak of, darling."

"No?"

"John, Bleak House has two mistresses."

"S-so it would appear." He replied in some trepidation.

"And, in truth, we are perfectly content with the arrangement."

"Well, I am very glad to hear it."

"But, dearest John, we have come to feel very strongly that, between us, we are cheating the master of Bleak House out of the full obligations and duties that he rightfully should expect from the mistress of his house."

"I am not conscious of such a fault, nor quite certain as to what… to what you might be…"

He swallowed and regarded us nervously.

After a momentary pause Ada and I turned in concert to face him, sitting up on the bed cross-legged like a pair of Indian fakirs.

We entreated him from either side with a barrage of alternating declarations, and his eyes darted side to side from face to face as we spoke.

"We both love you with our whole heart!"

"Neither could be happy depriving the other of any part of you that either might enjoy."

"We, neither of us, would have you break a solemn marriage vow."

"To either one of us."

"Nor would either of us breach a vow made to you before God."

"Therefore, John, no vows must be spoken."

"No promises declared or brought to light."

"Only this, dearest John –."

"That we love you as a wife loves her husband."

"And we know the duties and the joys of married love."

"And we wish to honour you with that love and that duty and that joy."

"We both wish it equally; we combine our loves into one and we offer this love to you."

Here Ada and I placed our hands together upon his breast.

"You once gave Esther to me, John; now I give Esther to you with my love."

"And, as you once gave Ada to be under my care, I give you Ada with my love. Take our united love, knowing that Ada offers her own and mine…"

"And Esther offers her own and mine."

He stared mutely down at our two hands, rising and falling with the motion of his breathing.

"You once wrote to me, guardian, that 'no _new_ relation could enhance the tenderness in which you held me,' but I have experience of that new relation now, and you must bow to my greater knowledge in this: it _will_ enhance that tenderness, I promise you!"

"Will it, my dear?" he asked faintly, a tear glistening in his eye.

"And I, darling John – I, too, have a little experience of that relation which only a wife and husband know; it is a glorious gift each gives to the other, and we both wish to share that gift with you, our beloved master."

"Do you, truly, my dears?" he whispered hoarsely, his eyes fixed upon our clasped hands.

"You shall have both our loves, whichever of us comes to you, whichever you go in to."

"Or both together!"

"Your joy is our joy."

"There is no sharing, no giving way one to the other –."

"For in this Ada shall be Esther and Esther shall be Ada."

We fell silent, gazing upon him with pure love and tenderness and in hopeful expectation of his reply.

His brow furrowed in deep consideration, his eyes lifted and passed from one of us to the other, and then closed in contemplation for a long moment. Ada and I feared we had shocked him deeply with our proposal and exchanged an anxious look. At last his brow smoothed and cleared, he unclosed his eyes and, showing us that he had never truly been our prisoner at all, but had merely consented to his imprisonment, he raised himself up, displacing us easily from our guard posts. He extracted his arms from under the bedclothes and, with some relief, having need of his old habit whilst pondering vexatious matters, he rubbed a hand over his silvered hair. He then leant back against the headboard and, with a serious but kindly look, held out his arms to us,

"Come; come, my dears; come rest upon me."

He drew us close and kissed the tops of our heads. I trembled, and Ada reached across his broad chest to lay her hand reassuringly on my shoulder, as I clasped her arm for courage.

"Your proposal, my dears…"

I felt him slowly shake his head and my heart sank,

"…displays an originality worthy of the term 'genius.' It is a remedy so perfectly suited to the problem, and yet so perfectly timed – for it could never have succeeded had it been proposed at any other time – that only a very foolish man indeed would not acknowledge its perfection and submit himself to the wisdom of it."

My own rapture was mirrored in Ada's glistening eyes.

"There are circumstances," he continued, "such as this, where a methodically reasoned and practical answer must be favoured over guidance sought through prayer and faith in providence. Therefore…"

He glanced meaningfully at each of us,

"…my little mistresses of Bleak House…" moving his arms to lift up the edge of the bedclothes, he smiled his invitation,

"…come, nest with me, my doves; let me be your husband and be you my wife, one wife in one united love, as you say."

With little soft cries of joy we scrambled under the sheets and lay pressed to either side of him, wonderfully warmed by the heat of his body, blissful together. He kissed each of us in turn, a deep, loving, eager kiss, and stroked our hair, which flowed down upon his breast in two mingled cascades of gold and chestnut.

He seemed to pause a moment, and mentioned in a quiet, conversational tone,

"There is yet one more circumstance that speaks in favour of this scheme, do you know, my loves?"

"What is that, darling husband?"

"Husband, what is it?" I echoed.

"Well, I fancy I heard the great clock in the hall chime midnight not so many minutes ago. And so, my dears… today… is… my birthday."

We smiled our mutual delight at this news, for in truth he had never before consented to reveal the date to us, no doubt for dread of being offered presents.

We answered with one voice,

"Oh, a happy birthday, darling husband! Many happy returns of the day!"

"Indeed, my little doves; a very happy birthday and wedding day!"

Mr. Jarndyce lavished his devoted attention upon us; Ada and I each took pleasure in pleasing him, in receiving pleasure from him, and thrilled in seeing him give and take pleasure with the other. And so there followed a sweet confusion of mouths, lips and tongues, of breasts and hips, of hands and limbs – and one proud, upstanding, indefatigable bedfellow, who unmistakably asserted his rightful place amongst us.

Our wedding night lasted well into early dawn, and when at last our husband drifted off into contented sleep, Ada and I reluctantly rose from the bridal bed. We retrieved our discarded nightdresses and folded his nightshirt over a chair. Obedient to the terms of our arrangement, which forbade any suspicion of scandal, we crept softly out of his chamber, and with arms entwined round each other's waist, kissed each other good-night and retired to our own rooms.

And so Bleak House soon came to be renamed, at least privately by us, its mistresses and master, Bliss House.

_The End._


End file.
